Marvel's Shendu: Dominating the Multiverse

Chapter 170 Feasible Solutions

The Holy Lord removed Octavius ​​from the mechanical arms. The method was simple: the Reality Stone altered the state of the metal at the interface; the latches that had been gripping the spine became fluid and slid off the skin. The four mechanical arms lost their connection, dangling to the ground, utterly dead.

Octavius ​​was laid on the floor. He was still breathing, his heart rate was unstable, but thankfully he was still alive.

Parker stood there, holding the launcher in his hand, but hadn't used it yet.

The Holy Lord crouched down and examined Octavius's pupillary reflex.

"Central nervous system damage, but not to an irreversible degree. The nerve tissue around the spinal junction needs repair; without surgery, it will recover about 70% in about two months. With surgery, it will take three weeks."

Parker spoke up. "You've been monitoring this place."

"right."

"From when?"

"From the first time you came."

Parker paused for two seconds to process this. "Then why didn't you do it earlier—"

"Because it wasn't necessary before today." The Holy Lord stood up. "Your doctor's problem isn't the equipment, the algorithm, or even his intelligence. His problem is that those four things have been connected to his brain for too long, changing the way he assesses risk. A normal physicist wouldn't do this kind of experiment without passive safety mechanisms. Octavius ​​wouldn't have three months ago. This one will."

Parker remained silent.

I sent you a text message.

"I know."

"You didn't hear me."

Parker looked down at Octavius ​​on the ground. Just half an hour ago, this man had been discussing the packaging process of pressure sensor chips with him, and now he lay here, fluid still seeping from the ports on either side of his spine.

"What will he do?" Parker asked.

"It depends on his choice after he wakes up. I disconnected the robotic arm; the residual effects of the neural interface will fade within a few weeks. If he doesn't reconnect it, he'll revert to being the same person he was before."

"What if he takes him back?"

The Holy Lord put his hands in his jacket pockets. "That's none of your business."

The sound of an ambulance could be heard in the distance. It's unclear who called the police.

The Holy Lord took out his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. It was a message from Wanda, asking when he was going back.

He did not reply immediately.

"Parker".

"What?"

"Your uncle's saying, 'With great power comes great responsibility,' is quite true, but there's a part he didn't have time to tell you."

Parker looked up.

"You have to survive first."

The Holy Lord's figure vanished from the spot. Space folded without a trace, and even the flow of air was not interrupted. The space in front of Parker was empty, as if no one had ever stood there.

He remained alone in the lab. On the floor lay the unconscious Octavius, next to him the fusion reactor reduced to a thin sheet, and the four mechanical arms that were no longer moving.

Parker crouched down, picked Octavius's glasses up from the ground, and placed them on his chest.

The sound of the ambulance was getting closer.

Parker had changed back into civilian clothes by the time the ambulance arrived.

He got into the ambulance on the stretcher, gave a false name, and said he was a student who was passing by and had gone in to see what was happening after hearing the explosion. The paramedics didn't ask any questions and were busy putting Octavius ​​on a monitor. His blood oxygen level was 87, his heart rate was 140, and the wounds on both sides of his spine were still oozing a clear fluid—not blood, but cerebrospinal fluid.

The paramedics looked very unwell.

Octavian Hospital's emergency room received Octavian at 3 a.m. Parker was kept outside the operating room. He sat on a plastic chair in the hallway for four hours, only stopping briefly to buy a bottle of water from a vending machine, which he didn't drink.

At 7:12 a.m., the surgeon came out.

"Who are you to him?"

"student."

The doctor glanced at him but didn't pursue the matter. "Spinal cord injury, T4 to T7 segments. Incomplete; some motor neurons are preserved, but sensory conduction is basically severed. There are six foreign body implantation sites on both sides of the spine. We removed the remaining metal fragments, but scar tissue has already formed around the nerve roots, making it impossible to remove them all at once."

Parker listened.

"He currently has no sensation in his lower body. Whether he can recover depends on the subsequent nerve regeneration; I cannot guarantee anything."

When will he wake up?

"The anesthesia has worn off this afternoon. But he cannot leave the ICU in the short term."

Parker nodded.

He called Aunt Mei at the end of the corridor, explaining that he had stayed at a classmate's house the night before and forgot to send the message. Aunt Mei scolded him a couple of times and told him to come home for breakfast. He said okay.

He didn't leave after I hung up the phone.

At 1:40 PM, the nurse informed him that Octavius ​​had woken up. Only one visitor is allowed in the ICU at a time, for fifteen minutes at a time. When Parker entered, Octavius ​​was lying on the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

The monitor readings were stable. The ventilator had been removed, and he was receiving oxygen via nasal cannula. His face was expressionless; he wasn't wearing glasses, and the skin around his eyes was loose, making him look ten years older than usual.

Parker stood by the bed for a while.

"Where's my arm?" Octavius ​​asked.

"In the lab. The police should have already cordoned off the area."

"Who has been here?"

Parker did not answer.

Octavius ​​turned to look at him. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and his eyes focused slowly, but his gaze remained unwavering. "Someone removed them from me. The interfaces were liquefied by external force, not mechanically disassembled. I know the difference perfectly well."

Parker sat down.

"Who is it?"

You don't know him.

"You know him."

Parker didn't respond.

The silence lasted for about two minutes. The monitor beeped steadily.

"I can't feel my legs," Octavius ​​said. He said it flatly, as if reporting experimental data. "From my chest down, there's nothing."

Parker looked at him.

"The doctor said there's a possibility of recovery."

What are the chances?

He didn't give specific figures.

Octavius ​​didn't speak again. He turned his gaze back to the ceiling. The ICU ceiling was white, with fluorescent tubes embedded in square grids, very bright, making one's eyes ache.

The nurse came in to remind Parker that visiting hours had begun. Parker stood up.

"Parker".

He stopped.

"Do me a favor."

"What?"

"There's a spare neural interface chip in the third drawer of the lab table. Bring it to me."

Parker stood in the doorway.

"PhD"

"I know what you're trying to say," Octavius ​​interrupted him. "You don't need to say it."

"The chip affects your judgment, you yourself said that—"

“I’ve said a lot, some right, some wrong,” Octavius ​​said, his voice flat. “But one thing I’m sure of: my legs are paralyzed now. My hands are almost done too. If the T4 injury continues to worsen, I’ll be completely paralyzed from the chest down within three months. What do you think I’ll be able to do then? Sit in a wheelchair, write papers, and wait to die?”

Parker didn't move.

"The chip can bypass damaged neural pathways. It goes directly from the cerebral cortex to the robotic arm, without going through the spinal cord."

"That's not recovery, that's—"

"That's the only feasible solution."

The nurse urged him again, and Parker left the ICU.